


All Messed Up in You

by TripleX_Tyrant



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Ambiguous Age, First Time, Incest, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-30 02:09:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5146415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TripleX_Tyrant/pseuds/TripleX_Tyrant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morty has been indulging his secret shame with online image boards. Rick has been trying to ignore his. Neither method makes this mutual pining easier. A Saturday alone changes everything when Morty helps Rick with a hurt knee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Messed Up in You

**Author's Note:**

> Morty's age is intentionally left ambiguous here, so he could be anywhere from canon age to probably about 19 at most. The title comes from a Nine Inch Nails song called "The Only Time" because I think the song suits them. I want to write more for this pairing in the future because I really love them! Enjoy!

It was a lazy Friday night for Morty. His mom and dad and Summer had gone to bed early since Summer had to visit three potential colleges that offered grad programs the next day, and between driving around and touring the campuses, their weekend would be completely shot. At least that's how Morty saw it, he himself glad to be undisturbed as he sat on his bed, laptop held between his stomach and thighs, at 1:30am. Technically Saturday.

With no commitments and nothing to disturb him (even Rick had conked out early tonight), Morty clicked the little /hm/ link. Normally, Morty would have considered himself more of a “sexy beautiful women” type, and a regular /hc/ and /gif/ lurker. But as of late, he'd found himself venturing away from his comfort zones, building up an interest that had crept its way into his brain without his immediate realization, and certainly not with permission, and it had thoroughly corrupted him. But he didn't come to the “handsome men” board for the barrel-chested body builders, the big-bellied bears, or the tiny twinks that decorated the front page. No, his craving, the one that gave him a dirty and thrilling adrenaline rush unlike any he tasted from his more socially expected browsing, came under the subject line of “silver foxes.”

Morty entered the thread and was welcomed by pictures of men as young as forty-five and as old as ninety (if appearances were anything to go by). The guilt Morty felt was slightly deterred by the comments - “Requesting visible age spots,” “Anyone else like hairy GDILFs?” “White hair and ripped. I want him to choke me with his dick” - words that let Morty know that as weird as he was, he wasn't the only weirdo. Still, these men weren't his type. He scrolled down until he found something more akin to his likings: a picture of a shirtless man who looked to be in his fifties or sixties, arms stretched back behind the couch he sat on. His slicked back black hair was streaked with gray, and he smirked at the camera with a cigarette dangling between his lips. Morty wasn't _completely_ oblivious. He knew where he got his tastes, same as he knew his predilection to redheaded girls came from Jessica.

The body-type was very close: lean and long-limbed. That smug expression was about perfect. The grayed complexion of skin that begged to tan. The cigarette a symbol of substance abuse. The hair was far too nice, but Morty really only needed a basic figure to project his fantasies onto. He straightened his legs out, balancing his laptop on his knees, and gripped his dick through his white boxers. With his imagination and hand at work, it didn't take long for his cock to harden under the material. The cotton blend slid and tugged nicely, creating a pleasurable friction. A welling bead of precum spread out, darkening the material and making it stick to his slit.

People with Morty's rare tastes had a way of turning their initial shame into a giddy, fun secret. They owned it. Morty bit his lip, jerking himself faster, the words “dirty old man lover,” running through his head. He wanted to get Rick on their living room couch in the position of the man on his screen. He wanted to straddle his grandpa so that it was Rick's dick crushed against his own that was causing Morty to tremble, instead of his own hand working himself through his boxers.

 _I'm grandpa loving garbage_ , Morty thought to himself, a tingle in his gut and a heated pressure somewhere deeper. _Just put me in the trash where I belong_.

Morty imagined Rick holding him by his ass cheeks. Maybe Rick bites down on Morty's neck. Maybe Rick whispers little words of encouragement. “Good boy, Morty. Yeah, y-you feel so good. You like your grandpa's dick rubbing against yours, you dirty little slut?”

Panting now, Morty tightened his grip, eyes slamming shut to take him entirely away to his fantasies. When did he start seeing Rick as someone he wanted? Wanted not just his approval as an elder or a family member or someone smarter? The first time Morty let himself masturbate to the thought of Rick (Rick stroking him in his lap, telling him how cute he was and how much he loved him. Quite the sappy fantasy), he had felt so ashamed. Now here he was, legitimate grandpa-sexual trash, on the edge of shooting off in his boxers with a thread of old men on his computer screen.

“Ah Rick,” Morty mouthed. “Y-yeah, Rick, please.”

His shaking, squeezing hand seized, and Morty shot, his hips shoving up. He thrust... thrust... thrust... exhaled.

Morty leaned his head back, resting it on the headboard as he waited for his heavy breaths and thudding pulse to calm. As they did, a smile crept to his face. He tried to be a good person. He always wanted to do right. Still, he wasn't sure he could rightfully blame Rick for _this_ messed up part of him.

What a life, indeed.

*~*~*~*

In certain situations, having a sex dream might be the thing that first makes a man or woman view another person as a sexual being. Might be the first thing to make a boy squirm near a childhood friend, or make a young woman reconsider what she means when she calls her best friend her girlfriend. But some people, such as Rick, knew better than to put so much stock in dreams. Either they were random mish-mashed nonsense or were on rare occasion formed from something the dreamer had been thinking about. In the former, Rick didn't find the dreams worth thinking about, and in the latter, it's not like Rick could be surprised.

This is why when Rick awoke that Saturday morning with his heart beating quickly and his body uncomfortably hot under his covers, his first groggy words were simply, “So that's happened now, huh?”

If Morty could recognize his attraction to Rick, Rick definitely wasn't going to be surprised by his own perversions. His taste for that hesitant and awkward yet sexually flaring youth was as obvious to Rick as Morty's own budding (or rather bursting) sexuality had been to everyone else. Lusting over his grandson wasn't much of a problem for Rick in and of itself. Or at least that's what he told himself. A disorder only forms when a tendency becomes intrusive. But unfortunately, intrusive was what Rick's little lust was becoming, and Rick had managed to hold back from fantasizing and masturbating to the thought of Morty for nearly a month. But since Morty was the only subject that Rick's mind even wanted to bother with fantasizing about, Rick also hadn't gotten off in that amount of time.

That dream had almost been a relief. In the waking world, Rick figured it a fact that he would never experience holding Morty over him, Morty's hip bones pressing into his palms. Morty's flushed, olive skin would never pull taut across his ribs as he inhaled through lip-biting teeth while he rode Rick to euphoria. Rick wanted to recreate these details and more, but he refused, showering in cold water that morning.

Rick wasn't proud of himself. Perhaps he should have never let himself jack off to Morty in the first place. It just gave this... infatuation... more power. But on the other hand, was the dream not confirmation enough that trying to ignore it was doing little good? And even under the cold rush of water that whipped his skin red, Rick found his mind trying to betray him and remember the Morty in his dream. He had seen Morty nude before, sure, but he had never really studied him the way he'd like. The way he'd been craving recently. After all, when you're trying not to be obvious, you don't exactly let your eyes linger on the dick. You can't really let your eyes rest anywhere, to be honest. Not even when Morty took his shirt off to mow, the sweat rolling down his back and skinny chest. Or when Morty lounged around on the couch watching TV in only his shirt and boxer shorts. The ones most guys would wear as their primary underwear but that Morty only really wore like pajama shorts, which followed the curve of his thighs as he readjusted to make a close-topped 4 with his legs, giving Rick a perfect view of his crotch if only he could let his eyes rest there for more than half a second at a time.

Rick may be incredibly spry for his old age, but that implausibly naïve boy had to be taking years off his life. These were his thoughts as he dressed. Rick turned the knob on the bathroom door, but before he'd even begun to pull, another forced flung the door in, causing the edge to strike his left knee and sending a harsh shock wave through his leg.

“Mother- son of a bitch,” Rick spat, stomping back and slapping his hands over his knee.

“Aw Rick, jeez. I-I'm sorry.”

Rick sneered up at his grandson. Morty was hugging his folded bath towel to his chest. He wore his shirt from yesterday and his boxer shorts. His hair was a mess of curls matted on one side, and the ends of his socks were pulled out a little from his toes, a look which Rick always found both stupid and endearing.

“The door was _closed_ , Morty!” Rick snapped, straightening up against the stiffness of his shocked muscles. “Clearly the bathroom was occupied. W-what if I was taking a shit? Lemme tell ya, y-y-you'd be sorrier than I'd be, _Morty_.”

“I said I was sorry,” Morty said, stepping back as Rick shoved his way out. “W-what do you want from me? Jeez.”

“How about you not be such a careless asshole? Huh? Think you can – uuur – manage that, Morty?”

Morty scowled, watching Rick walk his lanky body down the hallway. He stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.

The moment Rick knew he was out of Morty's sight, his stride fell into a limp. When he made it to the garage, he sat down in his red rolling chair and rubbed his knee. As usual, he found himself quickest to bark at Morty when his desire for him was at the forefront of his mind. It was one of those few phenomena he couldn't exactly explain, but he was sure it was some screwy defense tactic. He was a man of extremes, so if getting close was an unsafe option, pushing far far away was all he could manage to do.

Tearing his thoughts away from both the pain in his knee and his frustration with his desires, Rick turned to his work bench to tinker. About twenty minutes later, a knock came to the garage door, and Rick spun his chair around as the door opened.

“Hey,” Rick said, but was then taken by surprise at Morty's appearance.

“Uh,” Morty started, stepping in and holding his towel closed around his waist. His hair was dripping water onto his shoulders and down his chest, and in one hand he held his little bundle of dirty clothes “J-just getting some clean clothes real quick. Heh.”

Rick tried to quickly rotate back to his bench. After having that dream, he felt very cautious of seeming interested. But when he tried to pivot with his left leg, a crackling burst of pain froze him in place, and he clapped his hand down onto it. Unaware of this, Morty walked to the dryer and tossed his dirty clothes into the basket on top before pulling the dryer door open.

Rick hadn't intended on ogling Morty while his towel-clad body bent down to dig through the dryer. But now he had the fortunate opportunity to examine the real Morty's body. To see how the real thing compared to his dream version. Yes, he'd seen Morty's bare torso before, but that didn't stop him from admiring it while Morty wasn't looking.

Morty was a small boy for his age. Small and skinny. Rick licked his lips, watching his shoulder blades roll as he pulled clothes out and bundled them in one arm. His jeans. His shirt. His underwear, so much smaller than what Rick wore. He really did feel like a dirty old man. He almost had to roll his eyes at himself for how typical he was being when his eyes scanned down to Morty's butt, its bareness outlined by the towel.

Too soon, Morty rose and closed the dryer door. Nonchalantly, Rick turned his head to his side table. Morty turned around, clothes in one hand and towel supported with the other. “Is your knee still hurt?” he asked.

“What?” Rick asked, his hand still cupping his knee.

“Y-your knee? Where the door- where I hit you with the door?”

Rick pressed his fingertips against the side of his knee, feeling that it was very tinder. “Oh, yeah. I gue-uuur-ss you bruised it.”

“I-I'm sorry. It wasn't on purpose.”

“I-it's fine, Morty.”

“So it's- I mean, you can st- walk- stand on it?”

Rick rolled his eyes. “Yeah, check it out.” He rose from the chair, but when his left leg tried to straighten, he plopped back down hard and grunted.

Morty cringed. “Maybe we should look at it,” he said, walking over and setting his clothes on the work bench.

“Yeah... Sure,” Rick said, genuinely surprised at how persistent this pain was.

“Here,” Morty said, kneeling his shirtless, towel-clad body in front of Rick. Rick's eyes glued themselves to Morty's nipples. Morty's chest heaved, the little pink-brown nubs stiff and bumpy as a result of the cold air against the boy's post-shower body.

Morty's fingers hovered a moment. Then he pinched the hem of Rick's left khaki leg and pulled it up until it caught snug at the top of Rick's shin. When he tried to force it up higher, Rick sucked air through his teeth and batted Morty's hands away.

“It- it's swollen, Morty. It's not gonna roll any higher, Morty.”

“Aw man. This is all my fault.”

Rick watched Morty examining his swollen knee. His dirty mind buzzed at the idea that this would be about how Morty would look giving him a blowjob. But the wetness would be from perspiration, and Rick's fingers would be rubbing and teasing those stiff little nipples. Something jumped in Rick, and his pants started to feel tighter somewhere other than at his knee. How strange it was that even after all his experience (both human and alien) this little twerp could cause such a reaction. And this reaction was exceedingly dangerous. After all, Morty was right there between his legs.

“H-how about you get me some ice?” Rick said, turning his head to the side.

“You should pull your pants down,” Morty said absently. The words clicked, and Morty's eyes darted up at Rick's just when Rick's shot down to his.

And shit, now their eyes were locked. They could both feel the heat rise up their necks and cheeks. Morty popped up to his feet and backed up.

“I-I mean for the- f-f-for the ice. So your pant leg won't be in the way.”

“Uh, d-duh doi,” Rick said, huffing. “What else would I _possibly_ think you meant, you dummy?”

Taking off his pants right now wasn't an option for Rick. He wasn't about to have to make an excuse for why he had a bulge in his underwear. He needed to cool down. He reached back and grabbed Morty's bundle of clothes. “And put your clothes on already,” he said, tossing the bundle to Morty.

Morty fumbled and only caught the shirt. His towel slipped down, revealing a hip bone that made Rick's breath hitch in his throat. It was like the hip he held in his dream. He wanted to burn the details into his mind, and if Morty hadn't grabbed his towel at that moment, Rick would have gotten an eye-full that would make taking his pants off especially problematic. Luckily and sadly, Morty fastened his towel snug once more. He slipped his shirt on, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Now he had to put his pants on. A little awkwardly, Morty turned his back to Rick and picked up his underwear. Not that Morty thought Rick would care or have a single feeling about it if he just dropped his towel right there, which was sort of a melancholic thought. Morty stuck one leg in his briefs, then the other. Rick knew better than to watch, but he did, his eyes diligently following the sight of Morty sliding the underwear up his thighs, the towel bunching up as he went. Morty pulled the underwear over his butt, and Rick stiffened as the material shaped to his perky cheeks. Then up came the jeans. Now fully dressed, Morty pulled the towel off and carried it with him to the kitchen. The moment he was out of the room, Rick cupped his hands over his eyes. What was he doing letting himself watch like that?

In the kitchen, Morty cracked an ice tray over his towel, which he'd laid out on the counter. He sighed, shaking the stubborn cubes out. What a waste of a Saturday. Not only did Rick's hurt knee mean no adventures (although it was always a pleasant reminder that Rick _could_ get hurt), but Rick was also probably annoyed at him for getting him hurt in the first place. Figuring helping was the best he could do, Morty bundled the corners of the towel and picked it up.

When Morty returned to the garage, Rick had already removed his pants and shoes and left them at his feet. He was facing his work bench again.

“Here,” Morty said, holding the towel out.

Rick took it and sat it on his knee.

“O-okay,” Morty said, stepping back. “I hope that helps.” He walked to the door.

“Hey,” Rick said, turning his head back. Morty turned around. “Thanks for the ice. And don't even sweat about my knee. I-it's not even bad.” He gave Morty a quick smile before turning back.

Morty smiled brightly with relief, then left back up to his bedroom. Alone now, Rick didn't have to worry about Morty seeing his shameful erection. And the ice towel really was quite soothing. With all that out of the way, Rick returned to his tinkering.

Or at least, he tried to. But his mind kept replaying his dream, newly updated with accurate detail. Now the Morty that rode his cock had a towel wrapped around him, but open enough for Rick to see everything. And it was the same towel that was plopped on his knee right now. Rick rubbed his fingertips against the towel. Too bad the ice removed any bodily warmth from Morty. His eyes squinted as his mind filled with a sick idea. He looked back at the washer and dryer. Rather, he looked at the laundry basket sitting atop the dryer with Morty's clothes wadded on top like a strawberry on a cake just waiting for Rick to snatch it off.

It was better than actually doing anything with his grandson. That's what Rick told himself as he used his good leg to roll himself to the dryer. He held the towel against his knee, keeping that leg as still as he could as he rose up and snatched the wadded yellow shirt. He thudded back into the chair, then peeked around. The garage door was closed, his ship just inside it. The door to the kitchen was shut as well.

He rolled back to his work bench, then held the bundled shirt just in front of his face. He took a quick whiff and pulled it away. It smelled musky with Morty's scent, but also with a sting like cheap spray-deodorant.

“Th-this is messed up, Rick. Real... Real great grandpa you're being here.”

Unlike Morty, Rick had no community (none he'd ever associate with at any rate) to give him relief through his self-deprecation. He unrolled the shirt, and Morty's white boxers tumbled out and onto his lap. Rick's brow rose. He hadn't expected that. Setting the shirt on the table, Rick gingerly lifted the boxers. A shiver ran up his spine. He had a good idea of what these boxers had seen, and his heart sped as he slowly performed the intrusive act of spreading open the elastic waist band and peering in.

There were no visible signs that Morty had jizzed in these boxers about ten hours ago. Everything had dried up quite discreetly. But when Rick brought the fly to his face, he was hit with that telltale pungent odor like hot sweat. It swirled through his senses, jolting him. This was Morty.

Whatever reservations Rick had were quickly shoved aside. Quick and determined, he reached into his fly and pulled his dick out. His erection was never given the chance to go down. Not with all this excitement. Not with that terribly wonderful dream that didn't even have the decency to end in orgasm. Rick cupped the crotch of Morty's boxers and slipped it over his dick. All hesitation, all thoughts that this was dangerous and wrong, were ignored in favor of the thrill, and Rick began to pump quickly, forcing Morty's underwear up and down his shaft, the cloth catching over his head and tugging down on it tightly. He imagined Morty in his towel, riding him right there in the red rolling chair, his own ruddy prick bouncing as he rose and fell. Rick felt warm and tingly all over, childish flutters playing in his stomach. Between the towel and the boxers, it was almost like Morty was really here. Except...

Rick's left hand shot out and snatched Morty's shirt from the counter. Shoving the shirt against his face, Rick spun around so that his back was against the work bench. This was how Morty was riding him, Rick imagined, sucking in gulps of air siphoned through Morty's shirt, breathing Morty in. Rick's right hand pumped harder and faster, and he panted as he shoved his face into different parts of the shirt with each gasp, as if he might use up Morty's scent.

Needless to say, Rick's mind had completely forgotten his pained left knee. Nor did he feel the numbing cold of the icy water dripping down his leg. Nor could he possibly know that Morty, who had been passing time watching videos on his laptop, decided he might as well gather up the rest of the family's laundry and get that annoying chore over with. While he was at it, he could check on Rick to see how his knee was doing or if he wanted more ice. So Morty went room to room (sans Rick's, who unlike even Summer, didn't want anyone in his room even to gather laundry) and piled everyone's laundry in the bathroom hamper bag, the cord of his earphones swaying at his hip to where his phone was stuffed in his back pocket. At that moment, he and Rick were both in their own little worlds.

With Morty's shirt shoved against his face, moist mouth agape and right hand working Morty's boxers furiously over his dick, Rick imagined Morty's little moans and cries in that adorably sexy voice of his: “Aah, R-Rick. It feels so good. I-I'm gonna...” But Rick wouldn't let fantasy-Morty cum until he did. It wouldn't be long at this rate.

Morty had to set the laundry bag down to open the garage door. He opened it, grabbed the bag, swiveled in, and-

Rick barely heard the door open, or he would have reacted faster. The shirt slipped down his face, and his hazy eyes cracked open. But they immediately widened when he saw Morty. The bag slipped from Morty's fingers, and it toppled beside him. Rick tore the shirt from his reddened ashy face, using it now to cover his lap. But Morty had seen everything. A trembling hand pulled the earphones from his ears, and they slipped from his fingers and clattered on the garage floor.

“Shit,” Rick breathed, chest heaving and heart pounding. “Morty...”

Morty stared wide-eyed, his face turning bright red. His mouth fell open, digging for the words scattered in his brain. “I-aaa-I-I'm sorry,” he finally said, stepping back and onto his earphones. He turned around, his foot ripping the cord from the jack before he bolted out of the room.

Rick heard the door slam upstairs, and he shut his eyes. He groaned, not having any words to match how fucked he was. He didn't even want to look down at himself and see the awful, pathetic thing Morty saw. What now? Part of Rick was tempted to just pretend nothing happened and hope that Morty did the same. Or maybe he should come up with an excuse. He wasn't sniffing his shirt, he was just muffling himself. _I do it all the time Morty. I can't get off any other way._ Maybe Morty would be stupid enough to believe it.

Rick tossed the shirt and boxers on the table and stood up. The towel flopped to the floor, and although his knee had an ugly large bruise, the swelling had gone down and it wasn't nearly as sore. Quickly, he stuffed his wet leg in his pants. Then the other, and buckled up.

Morty had shut his door hard behind him and flopped onto his bed. He pressed his burning face against his pillow, his heart pounding. He was shivering and nauseated with adrenaline. Why was Rick jacking off with his clothes? There had to be an explanation. It couldn't be that Rick was aroused by _him_. And even if that somehow was the case, it was too embarrassing and awkward to find out this way.

“I can't j-just go back down there a-and ask Rick about it,” Morty told himself, clutching his gut under his weight. “Or go down there and do laundry like nothing happened.”

He wished he hadn't seen. Or that Rick hadn't seen that he'd seen. It should have made him happy, shouldn't it? Morty heard his door open, but he didn't move.

“Heyy Morty,” Rick said. “W- A- ...Here. You dropped these.”

Morty rolled over and saw that Rick was holding his earphones. Quietly, Morty stood and walked to Rick, taking the cord and seeing that the jack had broken off. He pulled his phone from his back pocket and saw the metal bit jutting out of the port. Walking softly, he sat the phone and earphones on his bedside table, keeping his back to Rick.

“I'll buy you some new ones,” Rick said. But Morty didn't respond. He just sort of adjusted the stuff on his table. Rick didn't like this quiet Morty. A pissy Morty would have been easier to deal with. “You should really _knock_ before coming in the garage, _Morty_. How am I supposed to know when it's safe to jack off? W-what, am I supposed to be punished for knowing how to be discreet, Morty? It's easy to tell with you.”

“Rick.”

Rick closed his mouth, and Morty turned to face him. His eyes were wide, but he held a firm frown.

“Tell me. T-tell me what you were doing with m-my shirt. A-and... my underwear Rick.”

Rick wanted to shoot a portal to somewhere extremely far away. But his portal gun was conveniently downstairs, so instead he planted his fists on his hips and huffed, rolling his eyes. “It's not what you're thinking, Morty.”

“Is it not?” Morty asked in such a thin, strained voice that Rick felt a pang in his chest. “I-if that's true, then... say it again. I'll believe you.” He put his hands on the sides of his head, eyes falling to the floor. “Cause maybe... y-y'know, m-my mind is pretty messed up, and I coulda just saw it the wrong way. If that's the case, if I am crazy or stupid, tell me. A-a-and I'll forget what I saw.”

The fists that Rick had pressed to his hips grew weak, and they slipped, arms dangling heavily at his sides. His throat felt tight, and he swallowed a lump. Morty was giving him an out, and it'd be stupid not to take it.

“It was,” Rick said, his voice just above a whisper, “not what you're thinking.”

With that, Rick turned. He put his hand on the door frame, then let go and stepped forward.

“Yeah. Heh,” Morty said, fiddling his fingers in front of his stomach. “I-I guess if you'd walked in on me last night- on me with pictures of naked old men on my laptop last night... I guess I'd tell you it wasn't what you thought, too.”

Rick turned to face Morty. “Uuurp-what?”

Morty pressed the heel of his palm to his eye, and sheepishly peeked up at Rick. And as odd as it seemed, there was something akin to a smile on his lips. “Would you be grossed out?”

“Weren't you?” Rick replied, heart beating faster at the dangerous admission.

When Morty chuckled, Rick furrowed his brow. Morty shook his head and said, “I was embarrassed. But... now I'm relieved. Cause I thought I was a freak or something.” He walked up to Rick, who remained stock still as Morty pressed his face into Rick's chest, wrapping his arms around him.

Morty was warm against him, and Rick grasped awkwardly at the air before he exhaled slowly and gently brought his own arms around Morty's smaller frame. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“I'm sorry, Morty,” Rick said. “I shouldn't have... I didn't want you to ever know. Th-this is fucked up even for me.”

Morty turned his head up, his chin pressing against Rick's chest. A light blush played on his cheeks. “D-don't be sorry. Neither of us would know, and we wouldn't get anywhere.”

At first Rick was simply impressed with Morty's words, but then he gave a snarky grin. “Oh you wanna take this further do you?”

Morty pulled back quickly, his eyes falling to the side. “C-come on, Rick. Y-you know that's not what I... I-I wasn't saying... Not that I wouldn't w-want...”

I'm just _teasing_ , Morty,” Rick said, scratching the back of his head.

“Oh...”

Rick looked around the room, the house so quiet with nobody else around. “Looks to me like maybe you h-had something in mind there. Tell me, what were you thinking about last night to blow such a tasty load in your underwear. Maybe I can help you out. G-uur-ive you a little experience to enhance your fantasies.”

“You're such a dick,” Morty whined. “Jeez, Rick.”

“Heh, yeah?” Rick said, stepping closer and backing Morty up to the end of his bed. “Isn't that what you get off on now?” Rick put a hand on the middle of Morty's chest and pushed him down onto the bed, though not as forcefully as one might expect.

Morty pulled himself back and brought his legs up on the bed, and although he felt nervous (he thought Rick looked quite attractive looming over him like that), he managed to respond:

“I-I mean sometimes. But never in real life or anything. N-not yet.” His eye contact broke by the end of this sentence, and Rick grinned.

“Dammit, you- you're just so cute all the time,” Rick said.

Morty brightened, beaming at Rick as he replied, “Jee Rick. Y-you really think I'm cute?”

“Don't go getting a big head over a compliment.”

Morty huffed and looked away, his lips rolling out to a signature puckered pout.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rick said, sounding a bit grumpy. “You're cute. I w-wanna shove my dick in that stupid cute mouth of yours, Morty. You wanna hear me say it?”

In response, Morty had the audacity to smile slyly and say, “I don't need you to say it, Rick. I mean, i-it's not like anyone else is home.”

Morty was making it a habit to catch Rick off guard today. But bouncing back quickly, Rick wasted no time with tearing his belt buckle open and undoing his pants, shoving them and his underwear to the floor in a single motion. He stepped out, putting his right knee on the bed between Morty's legs, dangerously close to his crotch.

“I guess that means nobody will hear you cry,” Rick said, then placed his hand on Morty's shoulder and shoved him onto his back. Morty shrank back at first when Rick leaned down toward him, but when Rick's mouth crashed against his, Morty melted into it. He had wanted it just as much as Rick. They kissed hard and held it for several seconds, not even moving. Simply wanting to absorb each other's heat and pressure. They broke apart with a smack, and Rick crawled forward, lifting his left leg and setting his knee on the bed as well. But the moment Rick's weight came down on it, the bruise throbbed and he grunted. He flipped over to lay on the bed between Morty and the wall. They could both see the large green and purple bruise.

“What should we do?” Morty asked.

“Well Morty, looks like you're just gonna have to be on top. You gonna t-uur-ake your clothes off or what?”

“O-oh. Uh,” Morty muttered, standing and pulling his shirt off.

Rick watched, pleasantly surprised at how eager Morty was being. But with his hormones, Rick supposed it shouldn't have been too surprising. His dick twitched with excitement.

“So tell me something,” Rick said, pulling his arms out of his coat sleeves, leaving the coat trapped beneath himself. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the bottom of the bed with his pants. “Old man porn?”

Morty had just pulled off his pants, but he paused with his fingers in the waist band of his underwear. “C-come on, Rick. Can you not make fun of me when we're about to have sex?” To showcase his discomfort, Morty's voice instinctively and embarrassingly lowered on the last two words. He pulled off his underwear and held them up on one finger. “Unless you'd rather just take these down to the garage and get off that way.”

When Rick only responded with silence, Morty tossed the underwear underhanded behind him. Now they were both naked, and Morty sat beside Rick on the bed, eyes glued to Rick's persistent erection. His own dick was beginning to rise as his excitement and nervousness increased. Rick saw this, and smirked as he wrapped his fingers around the base of his own dick, holding it upright.

“What Morty, you never see such a magnificent dick before? Can't make up your mind about what you wanna do with it?”

“Sorry. It's just, I've never... done anything with someone else's dick before.”

Rick pushed himself up on his forearms and said, “Jesus, you better not have!”

At that, Morty gave a smug little smile. “Oh, did you want to be the only one who gets to corrupt me? Y-you think you get to know everything I do?”

Rick lay back down and crossed his arms over his chest. It occurred to him that what Morty said might be too accurate. Even with Morty wanting this, Rick didn't want to be using Morty to get off.

“Come here,” Rick commanded, slapping his right hip. “P-put your legs around me. Straddle me.”

“Oh. Um...”

Carefully, Morty lifted his left leg over Rick, placing his palms on his abdomen. His knees were now on either side of Rick's hips, but he still kept himself raised off of him.

“Don't be so nervous,” Rick said. “You can't enjoy yourself with a semi.”

“Okay,” Morty replied, but his eyes seemed to want to focus on anything else but them.

“You sure you want to do this? I thought you'd be jumping at the opportunity to get your rocks off, but I get this isn't exactly your- your typical first-time situation.”

Morty's eyes jumped to Rick's. “N-no, I do want to! It's just...”

“Pff,” Rick scoffed. “Could you be any more of a virgin? Sit,” he said, grabbing his hips and leading him down until their balls rested against each other, the head of Morty's penis poking Rick's shaft. They both tingled at the contact, but Morty made it more obvious by making a small noise in his throat. Rick wrapped his hand around both their dicks and gave a squeeze. Morty inhaled sharply, and Rick could feel a pulsing wave travel through the smaller length as it hardened quickly. He rolled his hand so that his index and middle fingers slid over the head of Morty's dick. He did this a few times, getting a minimal reaction from Morty, who was trying to remain calm and collected. Finally, Morty arched his lower back so that his dick pressed hard against Rick's.

“Woah, l-look at you, Mr. No-foreplay,” Rick teased.

“Y-you're driving me crazy, Rick,” Morty said, his face burning red as his hips did shallow bobs.

“Well that was fast,” Rick said, letting go and putting both his arms under the pillow. His penis slapped back against his belly, and Morty frowned. “You're on top. What are you gonna do?”

Morty scrambled his fingers around Rick's penis, and Rick smiled, letting out a pleased sigh. Morty barely noticed, and he proceeded to stroke Rick's dick.

“D-does that feel good?” Morty asked, peeking at Rick with a little smile.

Rick shrugged. “It's nice,” he said with the tone of an unspoken “but.”

He thought he understood what Rick was getting at. Morty squirmed a bit and leaned forward, placing his palms on Rick’s chest. There was a thin amount of silvery chest hair, nearly imperceptible from a regular distance, but Morty had admired it for a good while now, and he took a moment to stroke his fingers across and watch the hairs break away from the drag of his fingertips.

Rick hummed at this. It was reaffirming to the concept that Morty wanted this as well. And it sent a little vibration through him when Morty pressed his splayed palms onto his chest. Morty pressed himself against Rick and thrust against him, causing more of a blunt pressure than a stroking sensation, but it was still quite pleasant, and Rick slipped his hands out from behind the pillow to place them on Morty’s hips. It was his way of encouraging Morty’s choice. Yes. Like that. Feels nice. And more importantly for the time being, it was something Morty could enjoy.

Soon, Morty found Rick lifting his hips into his humps. His cheeks tingled, knowing that he was managing to bring pleasure to Rick even with the large gap in experience. Morty began to breathe in little puffs, and watching Morty hover overhead rocking his hips against him excited Rick more than expected for something so simplistic.

“Hold up,” Rick said, tightening his grip on Morty’s hips.

Morty slowed to a stop and stared at Rick with worry that he’d messed something up. “Wh-what is it?”

“I can’t just let you cum from a little humping, Morty. Y-you gotta have the full experience. Isn’t that what you want? Y-you gotta experience the- the- the full _ride_ , Morty. You can’t just rub two dicks together and call it sex. It just doesn’t _cut it_ , Morty.”

“Okay!” Morty said, sitting up and crossing his arms. “So what do you want me to do?”

Rick slid back enough to prop his head upright against the pillow, then he smiled and patted his chest. “Move up here.”

“Up- up there?” Morty said, not entirely comfortable with the idea of having his exposed self so close to Rick’s face.

“I want to taste you, Morty,” Rick said, his voice suddenly turned stern and thick with want.

Slowly, Morty walked his knees up, Rick pulling him forward by the hips until Morty was practically sitting on his neck. Rick took Morty’s dick into his hand and began to stroke the underside with his thumb, and Morty began to breathe in sighs. He gasped when Rick flicked his tongue against the head. He circled his tongue around it again and again, every now and then slipping it over his slit. Morty’s body shivered.

“Rick!” he whined at the extended teasing, setting a trembling hand on Rick’s head.

Rick gave a shit eating grin, saliva running down his chin. He licked his lips and closed his eyes before opening his mouth and taking Morty’s dick fully into it, letting his tongue slide down until it touched Morty's sack, his nose pressing into his pubes.

Having his dick sucked was a shock to Morty’s senses. This was an entirely new sensation of hot wetness and the varied pressures of Rick’s tongue. Even the occasional bumps of Rick’s back teeth as he shoved into a cheek weren’t entirely unpleasant. Sure this didn’t have the instant intensity and tightness of a closed, lubed fist, but watching Rick’s head rock back and forth as if to the beat of a song, feeling the way his mouth was attacking his dick in a hundred different ways, brought Morty to a fast boil. This was Rick, the man whose domineering personality was equal parts intimidating, insulting, and infatuating, and here he was sucking his dick.

Even though Morty’s hand was resting on the top of Rick’s head, fingers at the place where hair became bald-spot, Rick was the only one controlling the speed at which he let Morty’s dick slide between his lips and down between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. Morty huffed and puffed, and soon his hips were rocking in an attempt to get deeper into Rick. Wanting. Needing. Rick hummed and growled in approval of Morty’s enthusiasm. Listening to Morty’s hard, rasping breaths was making Rick’s own hips rise and fall rhythmically.

“Ah, R-Rick,” Morty breathed, feeling himself reaching his peak. His body was hot and shaky. “I’m getting clo –aay!”

Morty’s hands shot back and caught Rick by the wrists. Rick had slid his hands to Morty’s ass, fingers crawling inward to his crack before Morty grabbed them.

“What’s the problem?” Rick growled.

“W-w-where were you going?!” Morty asked in return, freshly flustered. He sat back on Rick’s chest in order to protect himself.

Rick waved his hands lightly in Morty's grasp and raised his hips. “Just moving things along. Don’t you want me to rub your butthole?”

Morty’s eyes shot wide. “Why would I want that?!”

“Uh, maybe because it feels really really good?” He waggled his brow lightly. “And trust me, you’ll want me to before I ram my dick in your ass, bay-bee.”

Morty was more thrown off by being called baby than by Rick’s proposal to stick his dick in his butt. Honestly, Morty had kinda anticipated that part. Had wanted it even. But it was clear from his reaction that maybe anal would be a bit much for him after all.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never fingered your butthole. Y-y-you’re in here fantasizing about old men sticking their dicks up your butt, and you don’t even go for realism?”

“No! I’ve never done that. I-it’d be too weird.”

“Sure. And jacking it to old men isn’t.”

“I really wish you’d stop saying that,” Morty said. “It’s not even true you know. It’s not like it’s really them I masturbate to. Just, y’know, I use that to think about… about you.”

At first, Rick was struck with embarrassment at the flattery, but he wouldn’t let his speechlessness last long. He broke his hands from Morty’s grasp and squeezed the exposed top of his ass cheeks hard. Morty squeaked, and Rick could feel his ass tense in his hands.

“Well from now on I want you to think about how good it felt when I sucked you off while turning you into my finger puppet, Morty. Now pick your ass up.”

“Oh jeez,” Morty whined as he allowed Rick to raise him back up on his knees to position him closer to Rick’s mouth once more. He could feel Rick’s fingers like spider legs crawling forward and pulling the flesh away in order to reveal his entrance.

“It’s going to be fine,” Rick said. He gave Morty’s prick a little lick and continued, “I won’t let it hurt.” Rick was surprised with this unusual need to reassure Morty. Even if Morty still thought his words were crass and blunt, this wasn’t like him. He should have rammed Morty against the garage door the moment he walked in on him. But it wasn’t just the moral component of taking advantage of someone so much younger. There was just something about Morty that brought out something akin to tenderness. Though Rick doubted if Morty could ever believe that, not that he’d admit to it in the first place.

Morty made a sound like a hiccup when one of Rick’s fingers tapped his anus. He clenched, and the finger sat gently on him again, rubbing lightly. It felt weird and embarrassing, but Morty could feel his dick tense in delight at the sensation. Rick didn’t take him into his mouth again, but instead proceeded to run his tongue all along the shaft, giving special attention to flicking his tongue back and forth on the underside.

“Uun, hah,” Morty whimpered, his legs tensing and trembling. Embarrassed by the sounds he was trying to make, he clapped a hand over his mouth and breathed so heavily into it that his palm and mouth became wet. His hips wanted to thrust forward, but he didn’t want to pull away from the finger rubbing up and down on his hole. He raised forward and planted his other hand on the wall.

Even with Morty’s crotch and belly shoved into his face, Rick continued torturing the boy with his tongue and finger. In fact, these physical reactions of Morty’s were driving the man crazy. He absolutely adored knowing that he could make Morty come undone at his masterful touch, but he couldn’t take much more of Morty’s sexy whimpers, his lustful twitches, and the feel of his soft and perky ass cheek in his hand. Not to mention the perfect puckered hole and the hard little prick getting attention while Rick was left to ache.

Rick’s finger broke away and both hands grabbed Morty’s hips to push him off. Morty pulled away and sat down on the bed, back against the wall and legs thrown over Rick’s legs.

“What are you doing?” Morty asked when Rick sat up and began digging through his coat pockets.

“Looking for my lube. I must have taken it out. I… Actually I think I used it up. Damn it…”

Morty puckered his lips in contemplation. He scratched the back of his head. “Hold on,” he said, lifting himself up and sliding off the bed over Rick. He bent down and grabbed something from under his bed, and when he stood up, Rick saw that it was a smallish white, plastic jar. Morty handed it to him.

“Coconut oil?” Rick read. He looked at Morty with a raised brow. “Why do you have coconut oil?”

“Um,” Morty began, but Rick cut him off.

“I mean, I know _why_. Obviously. But why coconut oil? Y-you just go out and buy it?”

“It was Summers.”

“Ew, Morty. You stole your sister’s lube oil?”

“She didn’t get it for lube,” Morty stated defensively, looking grumpy. “She got it to clean her teeth or something. B-but she used it like twice and then it sat in the bathroom for a month cause she got too lazy to even use it. I’ve had it for three weeks and she didn’t even notice it was gone. And when she does, I’ll tell her Mom probably threw it away cause who keeps coconut oil in the bathroom. S-so… will it do?”

Rick nodded. “Yeah, it’s only the best common household lube for anal.”

Morty kind of twitched at “anal.” While he was excited, he was also exceedingly nervous and he wasn’t sure he trusted Rick to go gently. Rick unscrewed the lid and looked inside. Only the final third of the jar was left, and the top of the white, waxy block was raked across with finger-made canyons. Rick whistled and tilted the jar for Morty to see.

“You’ve really cleaned- been cleaning this thing out. How long did you say you’ve had it? Two weeks?”

Morty looked away. “Th-three,” he said.

Rick smirked and stuck two fingers in, scraping out a small amount. He sat the jar on the bedside table and rested back against the headboard.

“Get on your hands and knees and face the door,” Rick said, patting his stomach.

Morty blushed. “B-b-but, m-my butt will be- you’ll see my butt.”

Morty recognized the ridiculousness of what he’d said, and Rick didn’t make it better by rolling his eyes and saying. “Well yeah Morty, it won’t be the first butt I've seen either. And I’m not just talking about looking in the mirror for a fissure. Wh-what did you think was happening here?”

“Alright! Fine! Jeez,” Morty said. He pursed his lips and eyed his naked grandpa’s lean body, erection still rock-hard against his belly. Morty clambered onto the bed, stepping over Rick and placing his hands just below Rick’s hairy knees, the left one still sporting a large green-black bruise.

“You better unclench those butt cheeks if you want me to get you good and ready, Morty,” Rick said, squeezing the already melting chunk of coconut oil in his palm. “I’m not gonna be able to go too much longer without ramming my dick into you.”

“I’m trying,” Morty complained. “Y-you don’t exactly make this relaxing.”

“Yeah well you cost me an orgasm earlier, so I really don’t have the patience to coddle your virgin ass.”

Suddenly, Rick’s slick fingers slipped over Morty’s anus. The heat in Morty’s face flared up. His exposed, heated body shivered at the cold of the exposing air. And when Rick rubbed his slippery finger all around, Morty’s scalp tingled and cock twitched.

“I’m slipping a finger in,” Rick warned, his voice a rough, gravelly whisper that Morty drank in, making his muscles relax. When the first finger slipped in, Morty tensed up, fingers digging into Rick’s legs. His stomach gave a lurch, and yet it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“Aaand a second,” Rick said, sliding his index finger in. Morty let out a “fshoooo” sounding exhale, so Rick asked, “It’s not too much, is it? Y-you can handle more, can’t you?”

Morty took a few deep breaths. “Yeah. Yeah I can. Just…” He turned his head to look back at Rick. “W-w-will you be gentle? Please?”

Rick sneered at the sickening cuteness of his grandson. Morty didn’t have to ask. Rick had clearly lost his edge at Morty’s presence anyhow. So Rick didn’t respond. Instead he focused on moving his fingers in and out of Morty’s ass. “O-oh,” Morty gasped.

“Yeah Morty,” Rick said in that low voice. “You like this? Does it feel good in your little asshole? You _are_ a little asshole, you know that? Do you even know how long you’ve been teasing me with your hot little body?”

“R-Rick…”

“I’m gonna fill you up, Morty. And you better be ready cause my dick is much bigger than this.”

“Ah! Ahh…”

“But it’s OK. I’ll take reeeal good care of you. I’ll fuck you until your ass is drinking up every last drop of my cum.”

Morty gasped when Rick pulled his fingers out. He took a deep breath to cope with the sudden change in sensation while Rick reached into the jar of coconut oil and scooped out another wad. He squeezed it in his hand again and then slathered it all over his cock.

“Okay, Morty. Slide on down.”

“Oh. Okay,” Morty replied. So this was it. He was really going to have Rick inside of him. Morty sat up and turned around to face Rick: a bold move on his part. He locked eyes with Rick, and they both saw eagerness and apprehension. This was changing so much of their relationship. Things would be different after this. They both thought so.

Morty reach down to guide Rick’s penis, but the moment Rick felt fingers swipe against him, Morty retracted his hand, holding it at his chest. He grimaced.

“What? What is it?” Rick asked.

“It’s all wet. And- and slimy.”

“…Of course it is. Trust me, you don’t wanna do this dry. You should be used to getting your hands wet. Now just _do_ it.”

Morty looked between his hand and Rick’s slathered dick. And it occurred to him just how wet and slimy he felt between his butt cheeks. Rick sighed.

“You better be glad I’m not- Th-that you’re not doing it with a girl if you can’t even handle this much mess.”

“I can handle it!” Morty protested, pouting and furrowing his brow. “Aaah- I just didn’t expect it. I mean… wh-what do I do with my wet hand once- once you’re in?”

“Yeesh. Morty. D-do you want me to fuck you or not?”

Feeling indignant, Morty replied, “I-it’s not like you’re really doing the fucking from down there.”

A flash like gunpowder igniting went off in Rick’s gut, and he bucked Morty off of him and sat up on his knees. To Hell with the giant bruise. “You want me to do the fucking?” he asked. Rick shot his hand out and snatch the back of Morty’s head, clasping those short, brown curls in his fingers. He leaned forward, not for Morty's mouth, but for his ear, and he hissed, “I’m gonna plow into that tight virgin ass and make you cum like you’ve never came before. You’re gonna be wet and slippery and gooey, and you’re going to love every minute of it. After I’m done with you, _Morty_ , you’re not gonna be able to bust a nut without slathering that coconut oil allll over your perky little ass.”

Rick stuck his tongue out and gave a big, long lick up Morty’s cheek and across his ear. Morty shivered, and Rick grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him back around, shoving the center of his back so that Morty had to put his hands out to keep Rick from shoving him down against the mattress. Morty jerked and gasped when Rick stuck his hand on his balls, and holding them, led Morty to lift his ass. Finally, he had him on all fours.

Rick slapped his coconut oiled hand on one of Morty’s ass cheeks and spread it to one side. Morty cringed at the wetness, but was otherwise preoccupied by the heart-pounding excitement. With his other hand, Rick held his penis and positioned it at Morty’s entrance. He rubbed the head against it, and Morty’s dick gave a jump.

“Ready?” Rick asked, his tone so drastically different and sincere that Morty had to look back at him to make sure this was the same Rick that had just man-handled him.

“Yeah,” Morty replied. “I want it.”

Rick squeezed Morty’s ass cheek, looking almost pained.

“Who do you want it from, Morty?”

Morty gave a little scowl. Was Rick really going to try to make him beg?

“Come on, Rick,” Morty said. “I already confessed. I want it from you. So just… go… go for it already.”

At that, Rick’s eyes fell to the side, and he smiled to himself. Morty didn’t entirely understand the point of that, and he faced forward once more. But Rick had needed to hear it from Morty again, that what he was doing wasn’t a violation.

Rick pressed into Morty’s entrance, slowly sliding in. Then the head of his penis disappeared, and he stopped.

“Wh-what’s the matter?” Morty asked, shifting his weight between his palms. He was sweating from the discomfort.

“That’s the head. Think you can handle the rest?” Rick asked as if to tease Morty, but in truth he wanted to make sure that Morty was okay.

“Yes,” Morty replied, and much to Rick’s surprise, he began pressing back, taking more of Rick into himself. “I think it’s worse if you stay still.”

Rick’s eyes rolled back with delight as Morty slid down on him. It was incredible. He was really inside Morty, so hot and tight around him. Rick grabbed Morty’s hips and took over, pulling back and sliding back in again, all the way to the base. He moved slowly at first, in and out, _bathing_ in Morty’s tightness and the sounds of his breaths.

“Guh,” Morty would sometimes splutter when Rick pressed into him. The feeling was strange, and different even than the times he’d had to smuggle something for Rick. It was like his body knew that he shouldn’t have something in his butt, and the feeling of Rick sliding deeply into him made his stomach give little disapproving lurches. But at the same time, the tingling of his stretched entrance made his dick throb, and the sensation somewhere deep inside him made his lower stomach tickle and spark. Finally, unbelievably, this was happening. Morty's fingers tightened, clasping the material of Rick's coat under him. He blushed with his whole body, and his heart fluttered. And a little, delighted moan flowed out of him.

Soon, Rick began to speed up. His hips rocked quickly, eagerly, his dick wanting to go so far into Morty that they could fuse together. His cheeks tingled, and his fingers curled into Morty’s boney hips as if they couldn’t ever possibly get a good enough hold.

“Oh Morty,” Rick panted. “Holy shit, Morty.”

“Ah, ahah,” Morty chuckled breathily.

Rick’s fingers trailed up Morty’s side and to his chest, where they found a pert nipple. He rubbed it and tweaked it lightly, causing Morty’s chest to heave rapidly. Rick’s other hand slipped around and grabbed Morty’s dick.

“Y-yeah,” Morty whispered, relieved to have the stimulation again. He could feel the ridges of Rick’s long fingers sliding back and forth, slipping over his head then back down. Rick squeezed him tightly, his hips rocking in bursts of fast then slow, then fast again. “R-R-Rick! Ah, Rick! Oh it feels so good,” Morty rambled, his head lolling all around. His elbows gave out, and his upper body collapsed to the bed.

“Dammit Morty. Mph. I-if you keep that up, I’m not gonna be able to last.”

“I-I can’t help it. It feels so… ah, it feels incredible.”

Rick bit the inside of his cheek and began to jerk Morty faster. Despite Rick’s warnings, Morty wasn’t making things easy. He continued his string of gasps and whines and, “ah, ah, jeez. Ah, Rick.” Morty’s head was resting on its side on his forearms, his face dazed and glowing, a small amount of drool running onto his arm. But what really tipped Rick over the edge was when Morty tightened all over and in a strained voice said, “I-I’m getting so close…”

“Shit,” Rick grumbled, keeling forward and struggling to do more than grip Morty’s cock as he shot off deep inside of him. But this wasn’t a problem for Morty, as he still managed to come in Rick’s tight grip, his seed scattering across Rick's coat and dribbling over his fingers. Rick’s hips smacked…. smacked… smacked… against Morty’s ass until he was empty, a spray like fireworks rolling down his torso. For a moment he stayed there, the two of them breathing so hard in time with each other. Then he removed his sticky hand from Morty's cock and slowly pulled out. Rick turned onto his back, laying upside down on the bed with his knees in the air, taking one more long, deep breath and staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.

Morty rose himself up shakily on his hands, panting. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Holy shit, Morty,” Rick said, eyes locking with his grandson's. “We just fucked.”

Morty smiled shyly. “Yeah.”

“No taking that back.”

“Good. I don’t want to take it back. D-do you?”

Rick wiped his mouth, trying to hide his smile. He grabbed Morty’s arm and pulled him down, holding him against his chest. Morty quickly adjusted and nuzzled against him, smiling brightly to himself as well, and he giggled when Rick kissed the top of his head. Rick buried his nose in Morty’s curls and breathed in.

“What’s to regret? I got to get it on with my Morty, and he has to wash the mess we made,” Rick said, wiping his sticky hand on Morty’s arm and getting a grumpy grumble from him.

“Oh yeah,” Morty groaned. “I still have to do the laundry, and Mom and Dad and Summer will probably get home before I'm done.”

“Just blame me, Morty. Tell 'em I took you on an adventure. Tell 'em it was the trip of a lifetime.”

Morty laughed and buried his face against Rick's neck. Well, it wouldn't exactly be a lie.

**Author's Note:**

> Despite Rick's claim in this story, you in fact can rub two dicks together and call it sex.


End file.
